Dusk Angels
by straykitty
Summary: AU The time for the prince's Betrothing has arrived. Excitement in the land is high... But when the Betrothed is kidnapped, and one of the Dancers left in her place, only the gods truly know what will happen! Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

_Welcome..._

_I hate to say it, but I don't own YGO! I DO, however, own my other characters._

_A word to those who hate Mary-Sue stories - PLEASE let me know if any of my own characters are veering into that teritory! I really want them to be proper, three dimentional characters._

_That's all for now... enjoy!_

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**Last note: This story was inspired by and is dedicated to Evening Lilacs!

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__****Dusk Angels**

"Hey… uh, what are you again?"

"I'm a dragon, idiot." Joey rolled his eyes at the knight by his side.

"But, I'm supposed to kill dragons. Aren't I?"

"No." Joey took a deep breath. "You're just pretending to be a knight."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, shut up."

"That's no way for a knight to talk."

"Then keep your idiot mouth shut. I'm incognito, remember?"

"In what?"

"How on earth do you become a squire?"

"I'm a fair actor." The man beside Joey pushed up his visor and saw the knight's expression. "You should let go. Laugh a little. You take life too seriously."

"And you should stop playing the fool and get off that horse. You'll be saddle-sore tomorrow as it is."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." The tall man slid from his saddle. "This bloody armour!" he muttered. "That's another reason why I'm not a knight."

"Now you know what I go through. Now, to the party. By the time we get there, it'll be over."

"I don't understand you, you know that? One minute you're all serious, next thing you want to go to a party. Knights!"

"Yes, yes, you've had your fun. I got an invite, and it IS the prince's Betrothing."

"Yes, milord."

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

"Yami?"

The brightly coloured bird turned and smiled. "What is it, father?"

"The party… your party… is about to start." The man took off his top hat and gestured at the door. "Ready?"

"Yes, alright." Yami smoothed his feathers and followed his father out of the door. As they walked down the corridor, he looked at his father. Dressed in a dress-suit and top hat, his father certainly looked the part. Him, on the other hand… He tugged moodily on a feather that was a particularly bright shade of magenta.

"Something on your mind?" asked his father.

"Why do I have to be a bird?"

"Tradition! When I was your age, I went as a bird, and my father before me went as a bird, and… well, you get the point."

"But why do _I_ have to be a bird? Why can't I be something interesting, like an Earthian?" Yami looked at his father, who shrugged.

"Tradition," he repeated. "And, of course, the fact that the costume is already made, and the guests are already here." He smiled at his son. "I wouldn't worry about it. You're already betrothed, so who do you have to impress?"

"I wish you'd tell me already. I hate this waiting, wondering."

"No, no, my son, patience is a quality of a fine king."

"No, father." Yami smiled. "Patience is a virtue, virtue is a grace, and Grace is a little girl who wouldn't wash her face!"

His father stared at him, and then burst out laughing.

"Come on, father. You don't want your spring chicken to be late for his own ball!" Yami couldn't resist adding.

His father grinned at him. "And your Earthen father needs to get ready for his announcement. See you at the ball, young chicken."

"Au revoir, Earth-father."

The older man began to walk again, lengthening his stride so that he was soon out of sight. Yami watched him go, his smile fading. That was one thing he was not looking forward to. The announcing of his Betrothed. He straightened his plumed headdress, braced himself for the comments of the knights and others his age and made his way into the ballroom.

* * *

"Meera! Meera! MEERA! Where is she?" Allara began to swear profusely.

"Now, now, that's no language for such a lovely young lady." A tall man stepped out of the shadows. He leaned on a cane, and his right foot jarred every time it hit the floor. His wavy brown hair was streaked lightly with grey, but his bright blue eyes were piercing. He wore his beast costume with grace, making it look as if it were a part of him.

"Oh. It's you."

"Yes, it does seem to be. Have you located Meera?"

"Evidently not. When are we on?"

"Twenty minutes by the hand of the water-clock tower."

"Well, Meera had better find herself before then, because she and Martten are thesecond act."

"You had better go warm up with Joharr. I will continue the search."

"Alright, Master Gasket." Allara turned and headed for the tent erected behind the Great Hall. A tall, broad-shouldered youth ran up to her. "Al, we have to – "

"Practice, I know."

Joharr nodded, pushing his fringe behind his ear. "May I have this dance?" he asked, mock-seriously.

"Don't push your luck," smiled Allara, all thoughts of Meera fading away as Joharr took her hands. This was what she lived for, the amazing thrill that was dancing. As she spun slowly on the spot, she thought about all the dances she would perform. The _cara_, a lighthearted dance by the men to begin with, and then would come the dances for the prince. _Maladya_ the dance for happiness, a quick dance with many turns and twists to represent the full circle of life that Meera and Martten excelled at; _maligna_, a slow, reverent dance for the favour of the gods, the dance she and Joharr were doing, and her favourite of the three, _hatcha_, the dance for prosperity. Then would come the _elenyara_, the love dance, by the prince and his Betrothed. That was the most difficult and potent dance of them all. There were no rules, only to use the music as the mood commands. The music was always composed the night before, and never heard by either of the dancers until the crucial moment.

"Allara, left, not right. It's not the repeat yet." Joharr's patient correction pierced her thoughts.

"Sorry… just thinking about tonight's line-up."

"Well, don't worry. You'll be fine." Joharr grinned and patted her on the shoulder. "You'd better get changed… so have I, come to think of it."

"I'll see you later." Allara went to the tent and slipped into the girl's section.

"You're not changed yet. Of course," the black-haired woman on the bunk sneered. "You have no inclination of the importance of the dance you are going to do."

"Darelgi, please. Master Gasket chose me to do this dance because you and Sal are better at the _hatcha_. That's the only reason." Allara opened her trunk and began to pull out her costume, mask and shoes.

"Yeah? Well, I think that seeing as I'm the top-ranking female here, I think that should count a little, too."

"Always have to bring that up, don't you? We're all dancers; we're all low level. You just happened to have a captain as a father, and that only raises you slightly. You're still a dancer." Allara was doing all she could to keep her voice light and friendly. She pulled her silver dress on and smoothed the ruffled skirt, watching her reflection in the mirror.

Darelgi opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the entrance of a petit, pretty girl, whose china-doll features always made one think that if she fell over, she might break. She wore a bright pink dress, with ruffles and bows on the skirt, and flared sleeves.

"Meera!" exclaimed Allara, spinning around.

"The very same," said Meera, smiling at Darelgi in greeting and then turning to the silver-clad Allara. "You look nice."

"Thanks. You do too. You're so lucky you can wear pink without looking like a prat."

"You could."

"Not with this hair, I can't," pointed out Allara, tugging on her messy, red waves.

"Speaking of which… can you do my hair? I'll do yours."

"Oh, thanks. I was going to ask you that same thing!"

"Great minds, great minds."

"True enough. Darelgi, can you show me how to do that plaited bun? You're so good with hair…" wheedled Allara.

Darelgi sniffed and smoothed her golden dress. "I suppose so…"

"Thanks Darelgi!" Meera flung her arms around the surprised woman in an impulsive moment. Darelgi looked caught off-guard, and she hesitated before murmuring, "Pleasure."

"Girls! You decent?"

"Yeah, come in, Mart!" called Meera. A man built exactly in proportion to Meera with a shock of red hair and friendly green eyes entered. Immediately, his graceful movements and poise marked him as a dancer, and he carried it off so well he caused one to wonder why dancers were so low on the social chain.

"You guys ready yet?" he asked, smiling.

"Nearly. What is it?" Meera asked. She and Martten had a strange relationship. They seemed to be just friends, but the minute they got on the dance floor they appeared to be one being, connected by the barely concealed passion that propelled them through every dance.

"Master Gasket sent me to tell you that the dancing is being pushed back. We'll have twenty minutes more to mingle with the crowd."

"So does that mean we have to get changed?"

"Yup." Martten indicated his own clothing. "Incognito, that's us."

"Cool. I'll meet you in a moment. I have to see if I have anything grand enough." Meera grinned, and Martten ducked out of the tent.

Allara nudged her friend in the ribs. "And what was _that_?"

"What? Stop imagining romance, lark, 'cause there ain't any."

"You can borrow my lime outfit. It doesn't fit me any more." Allara pulled a lime dress out of her trunk. It was one of her old dance dresses, but it was still a perfectly good dress for mingling in.

"Thanks," Meera said, pulling her pink dress off and pulling the lime one on. All three of the women disliked zips and ties, so all of their dresses could be pulled on and off over their heads.

"I'm going to practice with Sal." Darelgi got up and swished out of the tent. Allara shook her head and let out an explosive breath of air.

"Subtle," commented Meera, rummaging in her trunk for a hair ribbon.

"Silence in the peanut gallery, please."

Meera raised an eyebrow. "You going to this ball?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I think so. I know I should practice, but – "

The two girls recited together, "I don't want to over-practice and spoil the performance."

Allara smiled wryly. "You know it better'n I do. What should I wear?"

"Maybe… your black dress. That's so gorgeous on you."

"It's black."

"And so?"

"Alright…" Allara pulled a long black dress out of her trunk, and pulled it on. It hugged her curvy figure and flared out at the bottom, with lace ruffles poking out from under the edges.

"Stunning," proclaimed Meera, pulling a black hair ribbon out of her trunk. "Turn around. Allara spun around obediently so that Meera could pull her hair back into a high bun. "Wear those long silver earrings, and your silver shoes. And the necklace."

"You're having fun, aren't you?" Allara asked the diminutive whirlwind that was her friend racing around pulling things from her trunk, and decorating her like an Almara festival tree.

"Me?" Meera arranged her face into a completely insincere innocent look.

Allara looked at herself in the mirror. "Yuck."

"What?"

"I'm fat."

"No, you are not. You can't be, you dance almost all the time. What you are, my friend, is CURVY!"

"Right." Allara gave her friend a sceptical look.

"'Tis true! Come on, let's get masks and crash that ball!"

"But we're invited," pointed out Allara.

"Call it a figure of speech, okay?"

Giggling and talking, the two girls exited.

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_So, what did you think? This is my first non-humour fic on so PLEASE give me feedback!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey there, me again. You'd better darn well appreciate this chappie - it took SO long to write. It's over 2000 words, I'm warning you. Well, discouragement over. (heh, not doing myself any favours here!) Well, what else can I say except - enjoy!

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****__Review Replies..._

**Banned again. -rolls eyes- Can't they make up their minds? Anyways, feel free to push that pretty lil' button on my profile that says "contact". That's new, and it let's you send me an email, cool, huh?

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Disclaimer: I don't own YGO. That should be obvious.**

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_**Dusk Angels**_

"I wonder what music they'll use for the _elenyara_…" Meera mused as they walked towards the palace.

"Mmmm…" murmured Allara noncommittally.

"A waltz? A tango? What? Gosh, I hope it's something really funky, don't you?" When Allara did not respond, evidently lost in thought, Meera carried on, undeterred. "Anyways, I hope the dances go smoothly tonight. I can't wait. I love dancing with Martten. I've never danced with Joharr, what's it like?" Suddenly, Meera felt very alone amongst the trees in the Royal Forest. "Al? Allara? Where are you?" Meera looked around, but her friend was nowhere to be seen.

"Al? AL!"" Meera started to panic. "I'm going to call Master Gasket!"

"No need." Master Gasket came up the path behind her. "What seems to be the matter?"

"Allara's gone!"

"Where?"

"Just… gone! One minute she was here, next thing – poof!"

"Poof?" Master Gasket arched an eyebrow.

"Vanished!"

"Go back to the tents, there's a girl. Tell Sal and Darelgi to warm up with the _maligna_."

"Yes, I'll go. You'll find her?"

"Trust me, if she can be found I'll find her." A strange, almost self-mocking expression crossed Master Gasket's face. "Oh, yes. I'll find her."

"Good." Meera searched his face, but the expression was gone. She shook her head and ran back down the path.

Master Gasket stood alone for a few moments. He was staring off into the distance. Then, quite suddenly he strode off the path to the left. He walked quickly, pausing every few moments to close his eyes. Each time he nodded and carried on. Soon he reached a stream. Without hesitation he placed a foot on the water and closed his eyes. His face creased into a frown. "No, no…" He walked along the bank, his eyes still closed. He shook his head slowly, his beast-mane waving around. "This can only mean one thing… trouble."

Sighing, he turned back the way he had came, and disappeared into the forest.

* * *

"Hey birdie? Do you sing?"

Yami ignored the taunting voice of one of the young noblemen and sat down. His younger brother, Yugi – who was dressed as a yurra – smiled sympathetically. "Ignore them," he advised.

Yami nodded. "I know." He looked across the table at the small brown ball of fuzz that was his brother and wished he could be somewhere else – anywhere else.

The sounding of trumpets startled him from his disgruntled thoughts. "Preeee-senting: His Royal Highness, Our Beloved King!"

Yami marvelled at the number of capitals in that one sentence. As his father walked through the door, the entire room burst into spontaneous applause. Yami sighed. If only he could inspire that much adoration and respect just by walking into a room. But then, nobody respects someone in a bird costume. Especially not _this_ bird costume.

"Loyal subjects, I would like to pronounce a toast to my eldest son and heir, Prince Yami!" The King raised a glass of white mara wine and smiled at his son.

"To Prince Yami," muttered the hall, getting to its' feet.

Yami nodded, and raised his own glass of mara. "To my father, the great and wise King of Eleniara."

"To our great and wise King," intoned the voices. Then there was a great shuffling of chairs as everyone sat down, the formalities over. The king walked over to his son.

"How is everything?"

"Spiffy. Just _spiffy_." Yami rolled his eyes.

His father shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me, teach me, never leave me," recited Yami.

His father laughed. "So you recognised it! Most people think I'm just your average Earthian, but no! I am the great Count Stafarli, from 'Tales of Europe.' Glad you noticed."

"I could never forget my favourite childhood book."

"True enough. You always were an above average child." The king looked at his timekeeper. "Enough chit-chat! Your Betrothing is about to begin!"

Yami watched his father walk to the podium, seeing the silence spread out from him in waves. 'They respect him,' he noted silently. 'And they will respect me too, once I am Betrothed.'

"Ladies, Lords, honoured guests, it is my joyful duty to welcome you, one and all, to Prince Yami's Betrothing ceremony. As his father I have watched him grow, from a tiny baby to this fine young man we see before us today. I know that, when it is time, he will rule wisely and fairly.

"I have chosen this girl to be his bride because I know she will make a fine queen, and will keep him on the straight and narrow. Dim the lanterns on your tables, ladies and gentlemen. The Prince's Betrothed is coming." The king smiled as he watched servants skimming from table to table, dimming the lanterns. Once they were finished, the hall glowed and flickered. "Open the doors!" called the king.

The great double doors opened, and the bright light from the passageway flooded in. Yami leaned forward, waiting to get the first glimpse of his future bride.

There was dead silence in the hall, every head turned to the doors. The anticipation was building. There was electricity in the air. Still no Betrothed. The king leaned quietly to the servant on his left and whispered something in his ear. The servant nodded and sank into the shadows.

Waiting. Waiting. His heart pounding, Yami looked at his father. Why all this build up? His father's face was hidden in shadow, but there was something in the way he stood that made Yami feel that not everything was going to plan.

Yugi was looking around, tugging nervously on one of the antennae of his costume. What was taking so long? He looked at his elder brother's grim expression over his bird-beak and bit his lip.

Suddenly, the chandelier was lowered from the ceiling, all three hundred of its' candles lit. As one, the guests blinked, their eyes having grown used to the half-light. Then they turned to the king, seeking an explanation. The king was pale, and beside him stood an extremely worried-looking servant.

"Guests," began the king slowly. "My son has requested that the dancers dance the _cara_ now, as in the fine tradition of days gone by. I had not realised that it must be done, as that tradition has fallen by the wayside, but my son insisted. Remember the tenacity and determination to do things the way they are meant to be done, when you look upon my son. I am prouder than ever of him."

Yami stared at his father. He had requested no such thing! Why did his father say that – what was he hiding? Yami frowned and got to his feet, ignoring the eyes of the crowd.

"Father! What is going on?" Yami spoke softly, but there was iron in his voice. "I have to know – you just attributed something to me that I did not do, and interrupted the ceremony! I demand an explanation!"

The king smiled sadly at his son's words. "You remind me of me, a bit." He shook his head. "But, your explanation. I must ask you not to make a scene when you hear this. It would jeopardise the entire evening."

"Yes, yes, what is it?" Yami leaned forward, so that he would not miss a word. This sounded serious.

"The Betrothed is missing."

"What?" Yami controlled his voice with huge effort. "Missing?"

"Yes," sighed his father. "Gone from her room. Her maidservant said she had wanted a moment alone, and when she went to call her for the ceremony, she was gone. Of her own free will or not, we don't know. The servants are searching. After the _cara_, if she is still not found I will have to… have to tell them. Uproar will ensue. When I tell them, you and Yugi go behind the stage. There is a picture of fruit there. Behind that picture is a door, go in there, and go down the passage. We can't have either of you endangered in any way."

"I… yes, father." Yami made his way to his seat, mind reeling. Gone? How could she be _gone_? And of her own free will? Why didn't she want to be queen? Was it him? And if she was kidnapped, by whom? And why? What did his father mean by 'endangered'? Yami couldn't see the answers to any of these or any of the other questions whirling around his head. He tried to concentrate on the _cara_, but the swirling music only made his feel dizzy, and his stomach was in a tight knot.

Yugi was worried; there was no doubt about that. What was happening, and why was everyone pretending this were normal? And why did his father and brother look so tense? He watched a servant skim up to his father and whisper something in his ear. His father's face tightened, and he said something back. The servant seemed about to protest but finally nodded and skimmed away again. The music of the _cara_ slowed and stopped. The audience clapped; the dancers bowed.

"Ladies and gentlemen." The king's face was deadly serious. The cheerful, light-hearted atmosphere the _cara_ had created was gone in an instant. "There has been a terrible development. It pains me to say this, but you all deserve to know."

"Yugi, come, quickly." All eyes on his father, Yami pulled his brother behind the stage.

"What's going on? I have a right to know! Just because I'm younger doesn't mean I'm stupid."

"I'm saving your behind right now, I'll tell you when we're safe. Shh!"

"Saving… what? Why? Yami please don't ignore me."

"Shush!" Yami yanked his brother over to a peeling painting of fruit. "Help me push."

"But Yami…" Yugi paused. His father's voice carried in the silence.

"Thus we are, of course, making every effort to find her."

"Find who?" had barely left Yugi's mouth, when Yami pulled him into a passageway in the wall. "Yami!"

Yami swung the door closed behind them and heard the painting swing back into place. "Yugi, the Betrothed."

"What?"

"That's who's missing. Come on, it'll be chaos out there, we have to get away."

Yugi stared at his brother, and then followed him through the dark passageway. It twisted and turned, and it was all he could do to keep up in his bulky costume.

"Push," Yami whispered, pointing to the door in front of them and leaning on the handle, which was rusty from lack of use. Yugi grunted as he shoved the door with his shoulder. It squeaked indignantly, and then swung slowly open. Yami and Yugi fell forward onto a cold stone floor.

"Ouch," mumbled Yugi. "Yami. Gerroff."

"Sorry," muttered Yami, getting up and helping Yugi to his feet. He looked around.

They were in the throne room, a cavernous room of stone with his father's magnificent throne at on end and a pair of double doors at the other. The windows were covered with dark red velvet curtains and there was no light but for one small, flickering torch.

Yami sighed and threw himself down on the cold stone floor. What was happening in the ballroom? He got up and started to pace.

Yugi watched him walking and drew him knees up to his chin. After a while he heard a noise in the passageway. Then more noises. People shouting. "Uh, Yami…?"

"Hmm?" Yami stopped pacing.

"Here they come."

"What?"

"Don't you hear them?"

"Hear whom?"

Yugi frowned. "People. Shouting. Coming here."

"I don't hear anything, Yugi. Don't worry, Father'll come soon."

"But Yami – "

"Shush!"

"Yami! Can't you hear them?"

"Look, Yugi, I don't hear anything."

Yugi sighed in frustration. The voices were getting louder and louder, closer and closer.

Yami resumed pacing. Suddenly, he heard voices, loud voices. Shouting. He stared at his brother. Yugi was watching the door expectantly. But the shouting had only started now, how could his brother have –?

"Get off me, you idiots!"

Two guards manhandled a girl into the throne room. Her hands were cuffed together, but she still fought violently. Her bright red hair was half out of its' ponytail and her face was angry. She wore a black dress that clung to her body, and silver slip-on ballet flats. She kneed one guard in the stomach and whirled around to smash her chained hands into his face. He sank to the ground, blood spurting from his nose. The other guard was gasping, the wind knocked out of him. The girl turned and noticed Yami and Yugi.

Yami could only stare. This… waif… had just reduced two of his royal guards to gasping weaklings. With her hands cuffed, too. She glared at him defiantly.

"Who – who are you?" he managed, feeling like an idiot. That was not high on the list of things a prince should say in this situation, he was sure.

Before the girl could answer, the throne-room doors swung open. The two fallen guard scrambled to their feet and pulled the girl to face the doors. Yami watched his father sweep in, his mouth set in a harsh line. He tried to say something, but his father did not look at him and he closed his mouth.

The king sat down on his throne and glared down at the waif befoe him. His eyes took in the blood on the guard's face and the defiant look on the girl's face. They swept over the people who had walked in with him, and they fell silent. They landed on Yami and Yugi, and a shiver passed through both of them. They'd never seen their father like this…

"What," the king began in an icy voice. "is the meaning of this?"

"We found her, Your Majesty. She was tied up in the stables. You did say to bring anyone suspicious to you, so, we untied her and brought her here." The guard saluted.

"Thank you. You are dismissed. Go wash your face." The king turned his attention to the girl, who his guards now surrounded. "What were you doing in my stables?"

"What do you _think_ I was doing?"

"I don't appreciate your tone."

"I don't appreciate you. We're even."

"Captain."

"Yes, sir." The man saluted and casually backhanded the girl across the face. She did not fall, but only glared at the king.

"Thank you. Now, respectfully this time, answer my question." The king's voice had not changed.

Yami was frozen to the ground. What did his father think he was doing?

"I was _tied up_. Do you think I was going to steal one of your stupid nags?"

The captain backhanded the girl again. She raised her chained hands and brought them crashing down onto his helmeted head. Then she elbowed him in the stomach and was about to do more when the other guards pulled her back. The captain pulled his helmet off and stared at the dent, then at the girl.

"That's your idea of 'respectfully'? Guards, throw in the dungeon for insolence. She doesn't know anything."

"Father, no!" Yami stepped swiftly in front of the girl. "You can't do that!"

"I can't, can I?" The king looked at Yami disapprovingly. "Out of the way, Yami."

"No! She was tied up, and you're _jailing_ her? Shouldn't you find out who tied her up? She might have seen the person who kidnapped the Betrothed!" Yami had no idea where he was finding these arguments, but he realised he did have a point.

"Might she have?" The king thought for a moment. "Release the waif. Take her to the prince's chambers and chain her there. Guard her until I give further instructions."

"The princes' – why?"

"That's you, isn't it?" The king turned to watch the guard leave. "I wish to speak to my son. Empty the throne room."

"Yes, sir." Within moments the king's servants had lead all the other people out of the chambers.

"Leave." The servants trickled out. When the door was closed, the king turned to Yami. "Never. Do. That. _Ever._" He frowned.

"Do what, father?"

"Do not contradict me in public!"

"But father!"

"No buts! I just risked my honour for you, and this is what I get in return?"

"Your honour? What are you talking about?"

"My HONOUR, boy. I had to explain exactly why your Betrothed was gone to three hundred angry guests. Without jeopardising your position. Do you know what honour means?"

"Honour. Keeping your word. Being fair."

"No. Honour is the pride of your family. I have worked extremely hard to build this kingdom, and I _will not_ have you messing that up. _Never_ contradict me in public."

"Father, I think you're over reacting!"

"Really. Well, I _think_ you're confined to the palace!"

"Father, Yami was just trying to help – "

"Quiet, Yugi." The king's jaw was set. "Go and get changed, both of you. This party is over." He got up and swept out of the room without so much as a backward glance.

"Father – " Yami had never seen his father lose control like he just had.

"It's okay, Yami." Yugi, too, was staring at the doorway. "He's just upset. Let it blow over before you approach him. It's just in the heat of the moment. He doesn't want to lose face or… lose you. Don't let that happen. You're his only heir."

"What about you?" Yami looked at his brother in surprise. He'd never heard his brother talk like this.

"Me? I haven't a leader's soul. You have. We are destined for different paths, my brother. You for kingship, me for…" Yugi suddenly looked very tired. "I don't know. But the gods have got something planned for me."

"Amen," was the only thing Yami could say. His brother. His younger brother, who he'd grown up with. His delicate, sensitive brother. Yami didn't want it to be true, but he couldn't ignore his instincts. His little brother, destined to be High Priest?

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_Well, hope you liked it. One review reply will come your way, if you review. Another new function. Cool, eh?_

_Ciao!_

_:meow:  
straykitty_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey y'all!**

**Thanks to all my reviewers!**

**_Chag Same'ach!_**

**_Merry Xmas!_****

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_Disclaimer: Don't own YGO.

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_****_Dusk Angels_**

Joey pushed his way through the thronged crowd and forced the throne-room door open. The king looked up expectantly, but upon seeing who it was looked down at his papers again. Joey sighed and approached the small round table to the left of the throne.

"Sire." He saluted.

The king did not look up. Joey groaned inwardly. The king's well known thirst for peace had compelled him to ignore the Knights – he had wanted to disband the Orders, but had been advised against it by the High Priest and his ministers. He'd had to settle for merely pretending that the Knights no longer existed, and did not meet with the Preceptors of the four Orders, leaving them to fend for themselves. Not that they had much trouble doing it – the citizens admired and respected anyone who was good enough to don the Knight's armour, whatever their king said.

"Sire." Joey lowered his hand.

"Yes, what is it?" asked the king impatiently, seeing that Joey was not going away.

"The missing Betrothed."

"Come to crow over me, I suppose?"

"No, I've come to help you. The Knights of the Four Kingdoms – "

"No."

"Sire, I haven't even – "

"No. I will not have you meddling – "

"SHUT UP!" yelled Joey, losing his temper and banging his gauntleted fist on the table.

The king jumped, then leaped to his feet. "Are you threatening me?"

"Maybe I am," growled Joey grimly, facing the king. "Listen to me. Preceptors Sparhawk, Calib, Manya and Farden offer the use of their Knights to find the Betrothed. We go with your blessing, or without – we serve the kingdom, not it's king. However, I'd prefer it to be _with_."

"You can't – "

"Father?" Yami stood at the door, now dressed in a soft brown robe. His sword-belt was fastened around his waist, but the scabbard was empty.

Joey inclined his head to the prince, but the king stood motionless.

"Yes?" he asked quietly.

"Father, I've been thinking, and – I, well, I want to join the search. I think it'll, you know, be the _honourable_ thing to do." Yami stressed the word honourable, trying to show he was willing to make amends.

Joey stood silently, wishing he wasn't here. It wasn't right for him to be here – he could see the prince was trying to convey something other than his message… something about the way he spoke.

"Fine." The king sat down, suddenly looking very tired. "You may go. Sir Knight, tell the Preceptors that they may each sent one champion to accompany my son. I will… make arrangements."

"Thank you, sire," said Joey, bowing slightly. He saw Yami frown slightly, as though he was struggling with something, and then the prince ran to his father and hugged him. The king sighed and returned his son's embrace, and Joey felt the tension between the two melt as if it had never existed. He saluted and left, grinning to himself.

* * *

"One champion?" Sparhawk frowned. "Well, I suppose it's better than nothing. At least we got his permission."

"Shall I contact the other Preceptors?"

"No, I'll send someone else. You go and change, you stink."

"Thanks," Joey said dryly. "It's a occupational hazard, you see."

Sparhawk grinned and turned back to the numerous papers littering his desk.

Joey left, making straight for his cell. When he reached the small room, his squire was sitting on his bed, mending some socks. Joey grinned.

"You're like an old mother hen, you know that?"

"Well, if I don't look after you, who will?" retorted the squire, looking up. He rapped on Joey's armoured chest. "Once you put this on, all rational thought flies out the window."

"Help me get it off – I'd like to think rationally for a while. And Sparhawk says I stink."

"All knights stink in their armour. I'll clean it later; I actually haven't really been worrying about it. I swear, the minute I turn my back for one second every single garment you own gets holes in it!"

Joey grinned. "Just letting you get your hand in."

"Sure, sure. Come here, let me unbuckle you."

* * *

_And there it is! To all who reviewed - your personal replies SHOULD be on their way to you soon. _

_Oh, and Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Dusk Angels**

Chapter 4 

"We're WHAT?"

"We're giving the prince and his escort a ride so they can leave incognito. Why are you overreacting?"

"OVERREACTING! ARE YOU COMPLETELY INSANE?"

"I find myself in possession of all my sanity, thank you for checking. Besides, Darelgi, we have a personal interest in this. Whoever kidnapped the Betrothed left Allara in her place, and I will not have anyone messing with my dancers. Nobody, understand. I will _not_ let this go unchallenged. Besides," Gaskett smiled, the intensity of the previous moment dissipating like mist on a sunny day. "We have to help them, otherwise we may not get Allara back. They're keeping her in the palace for her 'protection'. Or so they tell us, anyway."

"Huh!" Darelgi sniffed, stalking out of the tent.

Gaskett sighed, and he sank into a chair, deflated. Darelgi had swooped in on him the moment she had heard what happened. He'd been caught unawares, mulling over the message from the king, and thus he had made the error in judgement of telling Darelgi when she was full of righteous anger at the palace. He sighed, pushing himself to his feet. Of course the palace would ask him. Convenience was what they were after, the quick and easy solution. He very much doubted, however, that getting the betrothed back would be easy, let alone quick. There was no mistaking that footprint… He pulled his elaborately decorated cloak onto his shoulders and pushed the tent flap open, taking a deep breath of sweet night air before leaving the tent, letting the flap swing shut behind him.

* * *

"Look, this wasn't my idea, okay? So just cooperate, would you?" Yami pushed rubbed the back of his neck and glared at the girl before him.

"It wasn't MY idea, either," snapped Allara, shoving her chained hands into Yami's face. She had never thought she'd have the guts to do that to the crown prince, but right now, she was angry, upset and irritated, and that combination of emotions was pulling her along in the wake of every angry thought she had spouting out of her mouth.

"Look, just go along with them and then you can… do whatever… by yourself. Or, alternatively, I can have you locked in the stable and you can be fed with the horses. Which would you prefer?"

"Better the horses than that jerk we call king! At least _they_ have the courage to hit someone themselves!" Allara spat back, and her eyes widened in horror at the expression on the prince's face. He looked ready to cry, and at the same time as though he was about to do something like smash his fist into the wall – or her face.

"Just… just go," snapped Yami, turning away from the dancer and trying to keep his voice from wobbling.

"I – " began the girl, but Yami just began walking away. "Okay… I'll go. Please don't – "

"What, cry?" Yami whipped around, glaring at the dancer.

"Uh, well…" the dancer flushed red and looked at her feet.

Yami turned and stalked away, not replying. Behind him, Allara sagged against the wall. She had really touched a nerve. She surrendered to the guidance of a servant, who led her to the bathhouse. She told her to leave once they had arrived, and slipped out of her now torn black dress and slid into the hot water. Feeling the tension leave her muscles, she mulled over the events that had brought her here, to the bathhouse of the palace. The ball; the kidnapping; the guards finding her; the king practically accusing her of kidnapping the Betrothed; being chained to the prince's bed, then unchained on the prince's orders. Then… the argument. All he'd wanted was for her to have a bath – and all she'd wanted was to be as obtuse as possible. She sighed and picked up the soap. Once she was finished, and wrapping herself in a fluffy white bathrobe made of towel material, three servants entered to begin what they referred to as the "Mount Titus" of all makeovers. After what felt like hours, the servants brought in a mirror and Allara took a look at the 'new her' they'd created.

Her messy red tangles were tangled no more, but cascaded down from a high bun in silky waves. The eyelashes that framed her dark green eyes were now even longer and much thicker, and her lips shimmered when the sunlight touched them. The plain white dress they'd given her to put on was now accessorised, with the light green ruffles on her skirt, the glittering bodice that was embroidered with light green sequins and the emerald choker that encircled her neck.

"Wow… that's amazing," said Allara twisting back and forth, trying to see her new look from all angles. "Thank you."

The servants, looking very pleased with themselves, curtseyed and muttered that it was nothing.

"Oh, stop that! I'm not royalty!" Allara snapped. "This?" She tugged on her skirt. "This is all your doing, _you_ made me look this good! I'm just an ordinary dancer, believe me."

"Ordinary, eh?" One of the servants looked doubtful. "Do _ordinary dancers_ get invited to the king's table for dinner? Don't think so."

"I didn't want this to happen! I didn't plan to get kidnapped and then left in the place of the Betrothed – all this happened without my opinion on anything!"

"You're still invited. Ah, come on – maybe you can even win the heart of the younger prince. Then you could get used to this. He won't be a king, but he'll still live the life of one!"

"Ah, never mind," Allara sighed and gave up. The servants looked knowingly at each other and departed, letting yet another servant in. Allara followed him through the maze of corridors to the antechamber that lead into the dining hall.

"Good luck," he whispered, before disappearing through the door. Allara took a deep breath to steady herself. It was really hitting home now. She, a _dancer_, was about eat supper with – and share a table with – the royal family of Eleniara. A dancer!

"Come," said a servant dressed in smart red-and-gold livery. "It's time for dinner."

* * *

_DURN DURN DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURN!_

_Oh, and I don't own YGO. TRUST ME, that's a good thing!_

_ciao, for now_

_:meow:  
straykitty (the one, the only, the completely certifiable!)_

_Oh, yeah, and sorry about the lateness. My compy wasn't working for a while -shakes fist- Idiot thing!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey there! Hooray, I finally finished the chapter! I had Writer's Block for a while and I was just updating my Aladdin parody... it's really stress-relieving to write random humour, I've found! Well, not much else to say except - enjoy!

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own YGO, as sad as that is. I do, however own my OCs!

* * *

**__**Dusk Angels**_

**Chapter 5**

Allara sighed and flopped down on her bed. That, she decided, was an unqualified _disaster_. Rolling over, she buried her face in the stiff lace of her pillow.

There was a tap at the door.

"Come in," moaned Allara, lifting her head from the uncomfortable pillow. Couldn't they leave her alone for one minute?

The door slid open and a young girl walked in, carrying a neatly folded nightgown.

"Thanks," said Allara, uncomfortably aware that it looked as though she had been crying into her pillow from the way she lay.

The girl curtseyed and left. Allara groaned and banged her head on the pillow repeatedly. Great. She was staying the night. What was taking Master Gaskett so long?

* * *

Sparhawk looked out of his window at the approaching horsemen. One from each of the other three orders, he knew. The first to the gate rode a large bay horse, and held a pennant with a rearing lion surrounded by a laurel wreath. Below the lion was a crossed sword and axe. The banner of the Renish Order, noted Sparhawk, making a note. The Renish Knight was admitted through the gate and began to ride over the drawbridge, and the next Knight approached, his banner showing a black stallion rearing between two lions lying with a red and gold banner draped over each of their backs. Sparhawk nodded to himself, making a mark next to the word 'Tynnia' on his parchment. The third Knight rode on a roan, his purple banner with a unicorn rearing before a giant tree waving proudly in the slight breeze. Sparhawk made another note and smiled to himself. The Preceptors Calib, Manya and Farden had all responded in good time. They would be able to join the dancers within the week. Sparhawk shuffled the papers on his desk into a neat pile and walked swiftly to the door.

* * *

"Master Gaskett?" 

"Yes?" Gaskett turned to face the bulky, armoured man.

"The king requests your permission at the palace."

"Well, a request is better than a summons. When?"

"Now. I'm meant to escort you."

"No, no thank you." The dancer waved a hand. "I am perfectly capable of forming my own entourage."

The soldier hesitated. He was not used to people challenging orders so casually. It had never happened before. Who did this old codger think he was? "Um…"

"Spiffing." Gasket allowed himself that one flamboyancy, neatly stepped around the man and headed for the wagon where Darelgi stayed. Being the highest-ranking female, she had insisted – and since no one else really cared she had gotten her wish.

"But – " began the befuddled soldier, but Gaskett was long gone. The soldier swore loudly and ran in the direction the older man had gone.

* * *

"Yami?" 

"What is it, Yugi?"

"Father says I am to stay behind." Yugi tried to smile. He had wanted to go with, to give his brother moral support, but he understood that if something happened, he needed to be in the kingdom.

"I suppose it is for the best." Yami put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't worry – you'll be with me in spirit if not in person."

"I will!" Yugi's face lit up and he hugged his elder brother.

"Thank you." Yami sighed and sat down, staring at the large trunk standing by his door. "I don't know why Father insists on having the servants pack such a large amount of clothes."

"He doesn't have control over anything else, and he hates to be inactive."

Yami nodded thoughtfully. Since previous night, Yugi had become more and more prone to making such insightful comments.

The younger prince moved to the door. "I'll see you at lunch, then?"

Yami nodded, smiling.

The younger grinned back and left, humming a soft tune.

Yami pulled a cloak from his cupboard and draped it over his shoulders. He glanced at himself in the mirror and grimaced. Wearing these plain brown clothes, paired with his old black cloak, he could almost pass off as a commoner. Almost, that is, except for the fact that he had the most distinctive hair on this side of the Ergen Sea. He rolled his eyes heavenward. _If there **are** any gods, they sure have a twisted sense of humour._

Swishing his cloak around him dramatically, he went to his bookcase and pulled a dark green book from the shelf. The bookcase slid back to reveal a dark passageway. The king had shown Yami the passageway on his thirteenth birthday – it was supposed to be an escape route in case the palace was ever under siege, but Yami used it often as an escape route from his usually busy schedule. He reached into the darkness and pulled a tarnished candlestick from the shadows. Drawing a candle from its' hiding place under his bed, he pushed it into place. Then he lit the candle from one of the torches on the wall of the passageway, first checking to see whether there were any servants around who might see him, and then entered the passageway. There were carvings on the wall, but Yami had never stopped to read them. He did not pause now, hurrying down the passageway holding his candlestick tightly. The passage sloped downwards for a time, and then straightened out. At last, Yami reached the stairs to the surface. There were exactly seventy-three, but Yami didn't bother counting them as he hurried to the top. He didn't like the feeling of the darkness closing in on him, although since he had started learning the Art his fear had become much easier to manage.

He placed his palm on the stone, and the carved mark on it glowed as it recognised him bloodline. The stone slid silently to one side and Yami stole into the misty morning air. He watched the stone slide closed to make sure the magic was still working properly, and then turned to face the trees. The tunnel came out in the forest behind the palace, and from there Yami knew of at least three ways he could get out of the city. To his left was the unobtrusive stone that marked the exit of the passage out of Yugi's chambers, and some way to the right was the bigger stone that showed the way into or out of the main royal chambers, where his father stayed.

Feeling a slight breeze ruffle his hair, he started forward breathing deeply. This was just what he needed, a walk in the woods to clear his head.

Suddenly, he heard voices.

_What? Who could that be?_ He darted behind a large tree and peered out from behind it.

A petit, blonde girl, and a boy with a shock of red hair came walking through the trees. The girl was talking loudly, and the boy had his head turned towards her, listening.

"So then the idiot says 'I'm higher rank… blah blah blah… I deserve to get it…' You know the speech. She really irritates me!" The blonde complained, bunching her hands into fists.

"Meera, I know you're upset," began the boy, but the one called Meera waved her hands at him.

"No, no, I ain't done yet!" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, her pretty features screwed into a glare.

The other stopped. "Meera, please listen…"

"No!" Meera grinned, then pouted. "You're taking all the fun out of this!"

"Meera!"

"Don't look so shocked, Mart. How long have you known me?"

"Not long enough, evidently."

"Oh, shut up." Meera pursed her lips. "You're being obtuse."

"I know. It's very effective." Mart grinned.

Meera scowled. " At least pretend to be sympathetic."

"No. A little opposition never hurt anyone."

"There's always a first time, you know," Meera pointed out.

Mart grinned. "Yes, but I'm willing to take that risk."

"I hate you, you know that?"

"I love you too."

"Oh, ha ha. Don't let Al hear you talking like that." Meera flopped down onto Yami's passageway stone. "She's already getting ideas."

Yami groaned inwardly. These two were taking up his free time – and they were just settling in! He started to back away slowly, until…

* * *

_Cliffy!_

_Please review - I love feedback!_

_:meow:  
straykitty_


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